Page 41 of Some Like It Hot

Oh, she liked my hands and mouth the other night. But me? In a boyfriend sense? Not so sure about that. Or a fiancé sense? Nope, probably not.

I might just have to use my hands and mouth to convince her…

My heart rate picks up and my cock stirs.

Damn. I’m going to confront—no, that’s a bad word. I’m going to sweet talk—Elise, and I need to do it without a hard-on.

I shove a hand through my hair and keep walking.

It’s fucking early to be preparing for a big, important conversation.

I’m used to being up to work out or for early morning skates. Waking up early isn’t a problem. Being friendly, even charming, is.

Kind-of any time of day.

I like being straight to the point. And I make most of my points with a hockey stick. Or my hands.

Again, I think about where my hands were on New Year’s Eve and how much both Elise and I enjoyed that.

I turn the corner and take two steps before coming to a sudden halt.

Books and Buns, the bakery where Elise works and where she told me to meet her this morning, is in the middle of this block.

I decided to come right when they open, because I can’t wait to see her.

Because of my grandma and this whole house thing. Only because of that.

That’s what I’m telling myself.

But coming first thing this morning looks like it’s a bad idea.

There’s a huge crowd outside.

But then I really take in what’s going on.

It’s still five minutes before the bakery is supposed to open, but there are a ton of people gathered in front of the store.

Including a fire truck.

What the fuck?

The lights aren’t flashing, and no one’s running around or shouting. There’s no big hose spraying water anywhere, so I assume things are fine but…

Firefighters show up for medical problems too.

My heart begins pounding, and I start jogging toward the bakery.

Elise lives in the apartment over the bakery. Where is she? What happened? Is she okay?

“Excuse me,” I say, shouldering my way through a few people standing at the fringe. “Let me through.” My size definitely helps in situations like that.

I nearly plow Luna McNeill over.

“Hey!”

“Luna,” I say, as my hands shoot out to keep her from landing on her ass.

“Blake?” Her frown smooths out. “Oh, hi.”

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